The Towel
by Lady Mage
Summary: Fred tended to show up at her flat at odd times, and Hermione usually appreciated a break from her work. She liked his spontaneity. Today, his mission was to take a shower, though knowing Fred, it wasn't surprising that off-topic banter, product invention, and terrible pickup lines were the order of the day. Hermione/Fred.


CRACK.

"Hermione, I know you are in there!" a voice called, banging on the door of her flat.

Hermione sighed and put down the papers she was reading. Fred was here, again.

She stumbled to the door, eyes gradually focusing on the rest of her apartment. She had been immersed in her work for several hours and it was a start to discover that she was here, in her apartment above Flourish and Blott's rather than in the middle of the third century, B.C., which was the current focus of her work.

She opened the door, and Fred bounded in. "Where's the cat?" he asked. "Here, kitty kitty!" He wandered off into the kitchen and came back carrying a rather unhappy looking Crookshanks.

Hermione was hard-pressed not to giggle. Fred tended to show up at odd times, and she usually appreciated the break from her work. Harry and Ron were so scheduled these days, and she appreciated the spontaneity of Fred's friendship. She wondered what he wanted today.

Fred began to pull cat food out of his pockets, but Hermione vanished it before Crookshanks could take a bite. She had made the mistake of letting him feed Crookshanks in the past—and had gotten a lion cub instead of a cat for her troubles. Instead, she went into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of actual cat food, trying to glare at Fred but also smirking a bit.

Fred collapsed into one of the armchairs in her living room, before immediately bounding up. "Oh, I forgot something!" he said, and disappeared with a CRACK.

Hermione was left shaking her head and went back to the couch where she had spread out her research on battle runes used by the Carthaginians in the First Punic War. She had just gone back to contemplating the ward structure on the Carthaginian war ships when another CRACK sounded, followed by a pounding at her door. Fred, again.

Once again, Hermione extracted herself from her work and opened the door. Fred walked in again, but now he held a towel and a bag. "Can I use your bathroom?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied, walking into the bathroom ahead of him to make sure there wasn't anything embarrassing for him to see.

Another minute later, he bounded out again. "Sorry, Hermione," he said, "When I asked if I could use your bathroom, I really meant, can I use your shower?" He grinned at her and held up his towel. "See, I brought my own towel."

"All right," Hermione said, settling back down on the couch, "Though don't you have a perfectly functioning bathroom at your flat?"

"Oh, it's perfectly functioning all right," Fred replied, from the bathroom. "It works exactly the way I set it up to. But that sort of environment is not really ideal for getting clean, if you know what I mean."

Hermione snorted from the living room. She could almost hear him waggling his eyebrows. "No, I don't know what you mean," she said.

Fred popped his head out of the bathroom door, neck elongating around the hallway so he could see her in the living room. Sure enough, his eyebrows were waggling.

"That's pretty creepy, Fred," Hermione said, trying to sound put out but secretly impressed with his use of human transfiguration.

He stopped wiggling his eyebrows and elongated his neck a little bit further.

"No, you prat, the neck thing, not the eyebrows."

Fred grinned. "Isn't it great?"

"I'm not sure great is the right adjective, but yes, very impressive. Next thing I know you'll be selling necklaces that allow people to do that!"

Fred's eyes widened with excitement. His neck retreated around the corner to its normal length and then a towel-clad Fred exploded from the bathroom, picked Hermione up, and spun her around in a circle. "Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant!" he said. "Thank you, Hermione!"

"You're welcome," she said, blushing. "Now will you please set me down now?"

"Oh, right," Fred said, depositing her back on the couch where she had been sitting, and pompously handing her the paper that he had displaced when he had picked her up.

"Thanks," she said, smiling warmly at him.

"This is great, though, Hermione," he rambled, while pacing. "What to call them, what to call them…"

"Neck Flex?" Hermione offered.

"No, no, no, that's all wrong…"

"Or how about N.E.C.K.: Neck Elongation Cravat Kit."

"What's a cravat?" Fred asked.

"Fancy muggle tie," Hermione responded.

"That's pretty good, but I don't think anyone not muggleborn will get it…" Fred trailed off.

"Fair enough," Hermione said. "Anyways, it's not like I've had the best track record at naming things."

Fred stopped pacing and chuckled. "How could I forget about spew?"

Hermione mock-glared at him. "It's S.P.E.W., I'll have you know!" She paused, and continued with a giggle, "Now I have to redeem myself! Let me think…" She got up from the couch and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Fred followed her.

"I know," she cried, "What about Nextenders? Like neck and extender in one word? It can join your extendable ears collection. And maybe you could add other body parts to the collection as well. For example, a bracelet that allows your arm to extend as long as you want it!"

"Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant!" Fred exclaimed, and she barely had time to set the glass of water down before she was in his arms again and he was spinning her around in a circle. She laughed, enjoying his excitement.

"You are utterly charming," she said, totally open. She gave him a tight hug, cherishing his exhuberance, creativity, and love for all things magical.

Fred returned the hug with equal intensity. "Takes one to know one, Hermione. You're fantastic."

She blushed.

"Oh, I'm so excited. Thank you thank you thank you! I can't wait to tell George!" he said, loosening his grip but not letting go of her completely.

"Great," Hermione said, "you can ask him when you get home." She looked dramatically at her work in the living room and back to Fred who was still gripping her forearms tightly.

Fred pretended to be wounded for a moment, then promptly burst into laughter. "George!" he laughed, "I can't wait to see the look on his face!"

"What?" Hermione asked, "You mean about the new product idea?"

"Well, yes, that too" he said, still laughing, "But that's not what I meant. I was testing out a new product, and, well, left him a bit of a surprise in the bathroom."

"What kind of a surprise?"

"I charmed the shower to avoid actually getting people wet. In fact, it will go to great lengths to keep you dry. If you get in the shower, the showerhead will immediately pivot away from you, so that the water is going anywhere but on you. And every time you try to adjust the faucet, it gets worse: the showerhead comes completely unattached from the wall and soaks the entirety of the bathroom except for you! The best part is that once the whole room is wet, and you think you will finally be able to take a shower, the prank strikes again, by spraying you with my very own blend of skunk spray and tree sap."

"Ugh," said Hermione, shuddering. "Why would you ever do that to your own bathroom?"

"It's for our new line, Terrible Toilets," Fred responded helpfully. "I also charmed the toilet to fly through the air with people on it. The speed is controlled by, the, ah… input…"

"Fred Weasley!"

"Hey! It is a terribly complicated use of charms, Hermione! It even uses that rune that you were telling me about the other day. I'm sure you would like it."

"If I could get past this first-year sense of toilet humor, that is," Hermione said, while secretly admitting to herself that yes, she was very impressed, though she would never, ever, let Fred know.

"Yes, you probably would have to do that."

They fell silent again, barely noticing that they were still standing in the kitchen gripping each other's forearms. Fred broke the silence. "Still haven't figured out what to do with the sink though; any ideas, Hermione?"

"Like I'm going to give you ideas before you use my bathroom!" Hermione retorted.

"Oh don't worry," Fred said, releasing her, "As I told you, I already have plenty of ideas-"

Hermione glared at him.

"But, of course," he continued, "I would never dream of experimenting on your bathroom."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, unconvinced.

"Hey," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender, "I have a feeling that the bathroom at my flat is about to become a war zone. Can I please leave a towel at your place and come over here to shower and conduct the rest of my business? Pretty please?"

"Why not," she responded, laughing. What else could she say? Fred could be a bit like a bulldozer at times, but a very loveable bulldozer. And who was she to judge? She certainly had her bulldozer-like tendencies as well.

"Thank you, oh most gracious friend of mine," Fred responded, "You have saved me from the skunky sap." He put his hand dramatically on his chest. "It is an act," he said, "that will never be forgotten." With that, he bounded off back into the bathroom, humming under his breath.

Soon, Hermione was able to go back to her papers, accompanied by Fred loudly singing Celestina Warbeck's "Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" offkey in the shower. She could not decide whether it was endearing or annoying. It certainly was distracting.

She shook her head, smiling. "You just can't make this stuff up, Crookshanks."

Crookshanks gave her a look she couldn't interpret, and retreated back into the kitchen, leaving her alone again.

The shower turned off.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Fred?"

"Your bathroom is really misty."

"Don't you have a wand to take care of that?"

"Why, yes, Hermione, I do have a wand. It is quite the wand if I do say so myself. Too bad I don't have my camera to take a naked selfie in your bathroom."

"Fred! You know that's not what I meant! Where's your wand, your actual wand?"

"Oh, that? It's in that bag I brought with me. Along with all the clothes I brought."

"What were you planning on doing after your shower, walk out here naked?"

"I have a towel," he responded.

"Not good enough," she said, shaking her head before whipping out her wand and banishing the bag to the bathroom.

"Ouch!" he said, "Did you have to aim the damn thing at my head?"

She snickered. "Surely the great Fred Weasley is capable of avoiding a soft bag. Weren't you a beater?"

"Unfortunately, Hermione, I don't have my beater's bat with me. Totally helpless without the thing, you know." He came out wearing pants but no shirt, dropped his towel on the floor, and sat back down in the armchair that he had previously vacated.

"Sorry to hear that," Hermione replied, looking anywhere but at his bare, and very handsome chest.

"So, Hermione—" he began.

"Are you going to put on a shirt or not?" she asked.

"I don't know, should I?" he smirked.

She allowed herself to ogle him for dramatic affect. Merlin, he was a very handsome boy—no, man. Finally, she said, "As much as I enjoy the view, you are dripping on my very nice armchair."

Fred got up and went to sit next to Hermione on the couch. He put his arm around her and grinned down at her. "How about I drip onto a very nice couch instead?"

"That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard," Hermione retorted, though she was smiling at him and her stomach flipped. Trying to keep her voice steady and the blush off her face, she said, "And you are still dripping."

"All right," he said, disentangling himself from her and from the couch. He went over to his bag, rifled around a bit, and came out with a plain grey t-shirt and put it on.

"There," he said, sitting down again and putting his arm back around her, "Thanks by the way, for the use of your shower. You'll be happy to know that I've freshened the place up with _Eau de Fred_."

"More like _Ew de_ Fred," she replied. "Sorry, Fred, that was just too easy."

"Fair enough, fair enough," he said, "But you're getting us sidetracked. Please tell me, Hermione, that that wasn't the worst pick up line you've ever heard. There are loads that are worse!"

"Really?"

He smiled. "Oh, Hermione, you do not know what you are in for."

"I'm not sure I want to know," she retorted.

"Did the great Hermione Granger herself just admit that there was one piece of knowledge she didn't want to obtain?" He clutched his heart and collapsed against her side dramatically.

"Shove off, Fred, you know what I meant."

"All right, well here's an argument you might appreciate, Miss Granger. How in Merlin's name are you supposed to be able to know that what I said was the worst pickup line ever if you have never heard the truly egregious pickup lines that are out there!"

"Did you just use the word egregious to make me listen to your twaddle?" Hermione smiled.

Fred pouted. "I'm hurt. I am a noble Gryffindor, above such debase tomfoolery as that, Hermione. How could you possibly—"

"All right, all right," Hermione interrupted him, "I'll listen to three that you think are particularly—how did you say?—oh, yes, _egregious_."

Fred beamed. "All right. Number one—no, Hermione, you have to look at me while I say them to you!"

"Fine," she said, turning to face him.

"Number one," he continued, looking into her eyes with a twinkle, "Since you just doubted my honor as a Gryffindor, I can say that I was put there because… wait for it… the Sorting hat saw my destiny and it said I'm meant to be in your house!"

Hermione laughed. "That's pretty funny," she said. "Though it is so blatant it isn't really a good pickup line. Does that explain why you have been coming over so much?"

"Of course," he smirked, ruffling his hand in her hair. She swatted his hand away.

"All right, next one," he said, "I must have had some Felix Felicis, because I think I'm about to get lucky."

Hermione spluttered, and Fred waggled his eyebrows. "Does anyone actually use these?" she asked.

"Dunno."

"No one has ever used these to me," Hermione said.

"Maybe you just weren't meeting the right kind of guys," Fred offered.

"Or maybe I was meeting the exactly right kind of guys," she retorted, locking gazes with him and smiling.

"Wow, Hermione, that sounded an awful lot like a pickup line to me," Fred teased, but did not look away.

"You know that's not what I meant," she said.

"Whatever you say," Fred said, smiling.

"Your third one better be good," Hermione said, looking away, "Because these first two are pretty lame. I maintain that it isn't a pickup line if no one in their right mind would actually use it. And don't you pout at me, Fred Weasley!"

Fred smiled at this last. "You really like saying my name, don't you, Hermione?"

She spluttered.

"What, I think you've said it three times in the last five minutes."

"I hardly think that counts as a lot," she retorted. "You've said mine way more than that."

"Been counting, have you?" Fred asked, and Hermione couldn't help but think that he looked absurdly pleased with himself.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Fred Weasley—oh will you just shut up—"

"Did it again!"

"Whatever. You still have to amaze me with the terribleness of your final pickup line. And it has to be something that actually works."

"You want it to work, do you?" he asked with a smirk, moving closer to her. "Very interesting."

Hermione swatted him.

"Fine. Ok, here we go," he moved even closer and cupped her cheek with his hand. It was somehow tender and she didn't think he was playing anymore.

"Hermione," he said, completely serious, "If you were a Dementor, I would become a criminal just to get your kiss."

"Oh really?" she asked.

"Yes, really," he said.

"Well, that would be a loss," she said.

He pulled away just a fraction, "Why?" he asked.

"Because," she said in a small voice, reaching for his hand, "You have a lovely soul, and I would hate for it to be eaten."

He looked back up at her, lacing his fingers through hers, a content smile softening his features. Her stomach swooped. "Thanks, Hermione."

"I mean it," she said.

"I know you do," he said, "and I'm glad."

Later, they never quite could figure out who made the first move. One moment they were staring into each other's eyes on the couch. And then, Fred was swooping, and her hands were in his hair, and they were kissing as if their lives depended upon it. She smiled into the kiss, happy.

Eventually, they broke apart. "Don't take this as evidence that that pickup line is good," she said, "It's not."

"Is it worse than the one I said that got us into this discussion?" he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Definitely," she said, kissing him, again.

"So you admit that you were wrong?" he teased.

"I admit nothing other than that I find it rather ironic that I will be thinking of Dementors in the future when perfoming my patronus."

Fred beamed. "A happy memory, indeed," he said, "And the irony makes the memory even better! _Expecto Patronum!_ " A glowing silver hyena burst out from his wand and made as if to sniff Hermione, before stalking over to the towel Fred had left on the floor.

"I had better go hang that up, before it drips over your very nice floor," Fred said, attempting to disentangle himself.

Hermione used her wand to levitate the towel to the bathroom. "No need," she said, pulling him back down, "It will be there for you next time you need it. Which, I hope, is very often."

"Oh, don't worry Hermione," he said, kissing her again, "I'm sure my bathroom won't be fixed anytime soon."

"Poor George," Hermione said, laughing. It was the last thing she said for a while—unless, of course, you count the full name of one Frederick Gideon Weasley.


End file.
